The Things He Never Said
by slashfairy
Summary: A green eyed raven with blood red claws awaits you, Harry. Just like the truth.


_Chapter 1:_ Early Retirement

What am I doing here?

Harry sighed softly to himself at the unspoken question. Living at the Dursleys, he asked himself that, and now living with the Weasleys, he asks himself the same thing? There's obviously something seriously wrong here. The Weasleys are his friends. They care about him. How can he possibly ask himself what he's doing with such a nice caring family? Is his self-esteem seriously that low?

Harry pressed his forehead hard against the window – enjoying the coolness of the glass. He knows that isn't it. He loves the Weasleys, but…Something's wrong. He's always sensing that there's some sort of omen he's missing. Some sort of ominous sign flashing before his blindfold.

"Someone's hiding something. I can just feel it. It's…It's as if I can't trust them anymore. I'm questioning every action, and…I'm looking at everything more than I should, and…and…"

He just doesn't understand where all this apprehension's coming from. He used to be able to trust the Weasleys with his life. Now he's not even willing to trust them with his hair follicles.

"This is so fucked up."

Harry puffed gently at the window and frowned at everyone enjoying themselves without him. Despite his having left the gathering early, they seemed to go on without him. He didn't want them to suddenly become depressed without him there, because he really isn't the center of everything, but…there's that same feeling that he's missing something important.

"Harry?"

Harry turned to stare questioningly at the girl who now stood beside him, wondering what she wanted.

"You're not…You're not like the others, are you?"

"Well, I'm not a boy, if that's what you mean…"

"No…It's not that at all. It's just…Everyone's confusing me these days."

"What do you mean?"

There was a compulsion to tell her everything he felt, and so, hoping he would get answers he followed it. He told her about the beginning of this summer when a raven sat outside his window for days – no letter or parcel in sight. It just stood there…and stood there…and stood there…It didn't move to explore, hunt, _stretch_. He told her about its green eyes and – when Harry dared to venture close enough – red claws.

"I don't know what it wanted, or why it was there, but it just stayed there, and I guess I was kind of glad, because it wasn't bothering anyone, and it kept Hedgewig and me company, but I want to know why."

He told her about Dumbledore and how he couldn't trust him anymore. He even told her about her parents and her siblings…About the strange feelings that now made him jumpy and cautious.

"Wow, Harry. I don't know what to say."

"Please tell me you don't hate me."

"No no. I don't hate you or anything. It's nothing like that. Every time I see you, every time I hear your name, I feel like I should remember something. I don't know what, but it's important, and it bothers me when I just can't remember."

"Do you think there's any way that you can?"

"Well yeah. Supposedly, if you say just the right keyword, it'll trigger the person to remember everything. Of course, you need legillimancy also, and I'm sorry Harry…But I've heard rumors that you're not very good with mind magic."

Ginny snorted in laughter at what she'd heard of Ron and Hermione's conversation about Harry's occlumency lessons. Puffed with indignation, Harry cried out his rejection.

"Hey! Well you try learning anything with Snape chanting nothing but "Clear your mind! Clear your mind, Potter. Clear your mind!" Then of course, he's quite the motivational speaker. "You're pathetic, Potter. And don't forget stupid. You're pathetic, _and_ stupid. Quite the shocking combination.""

Ginny laughed helplessly – snorting every time she tried to stop.

"Oh…Now…he never…said that?"

She hit him on the shoulder to give emphasis, but Harry only snorted derisively.

"Might as well have. If there's an "I hate Harry Potter club," he funds, attends, and manages it."

It took a bit for her to stop, but when she did, silence descended, and they contented themselves in watching everyone else outside.

"You know…Snape could help."

Being the first to break the silence, Ginny turned her head to stare questioningly at Harry. Harry gave it a thought for a second, before sighing in resignation. Snape wouldn't help Harry if Harry paid him a million bucks.

"He wouldn't bother."

"But what if we ask him when he's in a good mood? He might be more willing, don't you think?"

"As far as I know, Snape's never in a good mood. Then let's not forget the fact that he hates me, but really I don't care anymore."

"Do you even know _why_ he hates you so much?"

"My dad…My dad wasn't the nicest person to Professor Snape, so me being the spawn of James Potter doesn't give me any bonus points. I just wish he'd give me a chance. He only sees me the way he sees my father. An arrogant little bastard who should've died when the attempt was made."

"Harry! He doesn't think all that, does he?" Ginny cried out in disbelief at what she was hearing of her Potions Master. She's always known that Professor Snape and Harry don't exactly see eye to eye, but the man wishing for Harry's death? That just seemed too horrible to her. 

"I assure you, Mrs. Weasley…I don't. And I would appreciate it, if you wouldn't put words in my mouth, Potter."

The familiar drawl diverted their attention from their friends and families to the bedroom door behind them. Standing in the doorway was the potions master in all his stern glory – looking from side to side at the room they inhabited. Ginny smiled comfortingly – happy to hear that Harry was wrong, but when she turned to give Harry an "I told you so," she stopped in her tracks. The glare he was giving their professor told her the comment wouldn't be very well received.

"Liar."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're a liar, Snape, and you know it. You've told me for the past 6 _years_ that I'm nothing but an arrogant, stupid little brat. That I'm nothing but a _complete_ replica of my father. Well you know what? Hogwash! I don't even KNOW my father! I haven't seen him in 15 _years_, because, what happened? He died! You always seem to forget that fact, Professor. Always. Despite your _barging_ into my mind – _invading_ my memories of my entire childhood without even the slightest hint of sympathy or remorse, you ignore the fact that until I turned 11, I've spent years in the presence of relatives who loathe my very existence. Harry Hunting, Snape. HARRY. HUNTING! I _still_ live with them, because every summer, I'm forced to go back to that hellhole Dumbledore expects me to call a home, because what? I'm the fucking boy-who-lived. The boy-who-needs-protection. The-boy-who's-trapped-in-a-fucking-hellhole-because-a-certain-headmaster-refuses-to-see-he-needs-help! I hate being the-boy-who-lived. I hate having some ridiculous prophecy hanging over my head. I hate being manipulated and I HATE being PLACED on some RIDICULOUS pedestal one second and have it YANKED out from UNDER me the very next! I HATE being ME! However, you know what? I have to fucking deal with all of it. So please. Spare me the tripe you guys feed me when YOU and the REST of the BLOODY wizarding world think otherwise."

Harry shoved Snape aside and stormed out of the room – leaving a surprised Ginny with a thunderstruck Potions professor. From the corner of their eyes, they saw a figure rapidly storming across the lawn towards the forest outside their wards, and Ron and Hermione try to stop him.

"Harry, wait!"

Ron and Hermione tried to follow Harry, but the boy whirled on them with his wand in hand and a hex at the forefront of his thoughts.

"If you dare take another step, I'll hex you."

Hermione and Ron froze in their tracks – somehow aware that Harry really would do it if challenged.

"I'm leaving. I'm leaving, and really, I'm not sure I'm coming back. This is a ridiculous. You're sending a 16-year-old out to solve your own problems. You've relied on a _baby_ growing up to solve everything for you, because of some _harebrained_ prophecy Dumbledore told you. Well I'll tell you something right now. The bloody prophecy's wrong. I quit. That's right. _Quit_. I'm sending in my resignation. Consider me a war veteran, consider me a traitor. Consider me whatever the fuck you want, because I just don't give a damn. Think what you want, because really…this is too much. I'm old enough to be the deciding factor in a war, but I'm not old enough to protect myself from my overweight, dim-witted cousin the only way I truly can? Well fuck you! Fuck all of you! Solve your own problems, because once again, I'll tell you. I'll even spell it out for you! I Q. U. I. T. Quit! Fight your own evils and leave me out of it."

"But these evils are just as much yours as ours, Harry!"

"Not anymore."

Harry stormed off, and Molly quickly tried to stun him, but he dodged each and every one of them and even sent a few spells their way. Ron somehow managed to escape and floo the Hogwarts headmaster, but when the headmaster arrived, Harry was gone. They know neither where he's gone, nor how he's managed to flee so quickly. What they do know, is that Harry Potter's deserted them. And unless he has a change of heart and returns, they have _no hope of winning._


End file.
